


I Will Follow You with My Whole Life

by sinningpumpkin



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Genderbending, Knife Play, fighting to fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinningpumpkin/pseuds/sinningpumpkin
Summary: Will tries to give Hannibal a few matching scars with a linoleum knife in Florence.





	I Will Follow You with My Whole Life

Will was most worried about how to get into Hannibal’s apartment. She had made it all the way to Florence, jumped through every hoop imaginable, and she was still terrified of being met with a locked door. Should she kick it down? She could knock, or maybe attempt to pick the lock. Kicking it down would surely draw too much attention, and she was awful at picking locks, even the clear ones she had practiced on.

She crested the steep set of wooden stairs and pinned her eyes on Hannibal’s lacquered front door, the sole of her shoe skittering across the wood floor slightly. She ignored the wavering of her vision as she took a few deep breaths, squaring up with the front door. The engravings on the dark trim began to quiver and she squeezed her eyes shut. Adrenaline made it hard to hear or see. She rolled her shoulders, followed by her neck, and blew a puff of air between her teeth. Her eyebrows were pinched together when she finally managed to raise her hand and tap her knuckles against the cool wood.

It took everything in her power to keep her hands at her sides, the knife in her jacket practically vibrating as footsteps drew close to the door. She was glad she had ignored her immediate urge when Bedelia pulled open the door, instead of Hannibal. He was semi-disheveled, but it seemed that his stately grace was ingrained into his features. His hand flexed where it was braced on the doorframe, and satisfaction flared in Will’s gut at his obvious surprise. He was just turning to call into the apartment, when Hannibal beat him to it. “Who’s at the door?” Will felt her knees go weak, skin prickling as another set of steps sounded toward her.

Hannibal emerged from the kitchen a moment later, looking exactly how Will remembered, strangely domestic with an apron knotted around her waist and her button up rolled up to her elbows. Will hated how comforting she found Hannibal’s casual, disheveled look for the kitchen, even knowing there was probably a set of human lungs on the cutting board. She was staring at Will, exactly how she remembered, with the exact stare that Will dreaded and craved for eight months. Will swallowed, wondering if her throat was swelling closed or if her mind as playing a trick on her. She forgot Bedelia was between them until he moved, brushing by her to slip down the stairs without a word.

Hannibal didn’t seem nearly as surprised as Bedelia, her head only slightly cocked. Her hair was longer, silver strands brushing at her collarbones. Will hated that she could see the slight changes so clearly. She wondered if Hannibal could tell her hair was kept shorter now, at the line of her chin instead of the longer locks Hannibal always admired. She wondered if Hannibal could tell that she had hacked them off in the hospital bathroom before starting to get regular haircuts.

Will stepped inside of the apartment and shut the door behind her, never breaking eye contact with the elder woman in front of her. Even as she felt the world shift under her feet, feeling with a dark certainty that whatever happened in this apartment would be the beginning of her end. “I am surprised it took you this long.” Hannibal didn’t have a weapon in her hands, but Will didn’t pretend that she was at the advantage. She never had the advantage where Hannibal was involved.

“Don’t lie, Dr. Lecter.” Will’s voice was rougher around the edges. It was never the same after she woke in a panic and ripped the breathing tube from her throat. Hannibal smiled at the sound of it.

“Well, maybe not surprised. I was disappointed, hopeful you would make quick work of your… admittedly messy psyche.” Her hip pressed against the counter at her right, throwing off her balance. Will tried to calculate the number of strides between them but the space seemed to widen and shorten at random, wood flooring undulating and making her sick. “Having to live with Bedelia for so many months became rote. Quite quickly, in fact.”

Will took a half step closer, jaw clenching when Hannibal didn’t move to preserve the distance between them. “Another lie. How rude.” She licked her lips. “You love him, just as you love me.” She managed to not trip over the words. Bloom had helped her with that, learning that Hannibal’s perverse nature did not taint Will, that the love did not have to destroy her. After the first step, it was easier to draw close, easier to ignore the fear of getting drawn back into Hannibal’s orbit.

Hannibal broke their intense stare, assessing the rest of Will’s body with an icy stare. Will wondered if Hannibal could see how much weight she had lost, if the heavy jacket she had pulled on hid the fact she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of any meal in weeks. “I love him. But not in the way I love you.” Her eyes were painful against Will’s skin. The scar banding her stomach throbbed with a phantom pain. They were close enough to reach out and touch. Will flexed her fingers and kept them at her side. “You are unique. There will be other Bedelias.” Hannibal reached for her and Will wondered if her heart would stop beating again. She was dead for two minutes before the paramedics got to her, and pulled her back to the land of the living. “But there is only you, Will.” Her fingers tangled with a few of Will’s curls, greasy and unkempt, shorter than the last time Hannibal touched her like this.

Will did not recoil. She stared into Hannibal’s eyes, nearly falling into them before her hand pressed into her jacket pocket. “Crawford told me,” She licked her lips and swallowed, trying to smooth out the rough edges of her voice “She told me that you knew just how to cut me so I would live.” Hannibal’s fingers dropped away from her hair, but Will felt them brush over her shoulder before falling to her side. “I’m afraid I can’t afford you that same luxury.” The linoleum caught on her pocket, whistling through the air as Will aimed a sloppy slash at Hannibal’s stomach. Her moment of hesitation allowed Hannibal to jump away.

Will’s vision wavered, muscles rippling as she lunged after her. Her arm was extended, knuckles white on the grip of the knife as she managed to catch Hannibal’s side. A nick barely deep enough to have blood spilling across her white shirt. Glass shattered across the counter, specks of green frazzling Will as Hannibal aimed the jagged edge of the wine bottle at Will’s chest. Will’s hip slammed against the counter as she spun away, stumbling deeper into the kitchen as Hannibal followed. “Yes, much more fascinating than Bedelia.” Hannibal grinned, and Will thought it looked semi-feral.

Before Hannibal could find a more suitable weapon, Will leapt at her. Her knuckles slammed into Hannibal’s side, breath exploding from her chest. Will should have taken her then, jammed the knife into her side and raked it through her abdomen. Instead, she wasted her opportunity to smash her elbow against Hannibal’s face. It connected with her nose with a deep snap, blood gushed down her face as she stumbled away. Hannibal was still grinning, blood spreading through her mouth and coloring her teeth. Drops of red soaked around the color of her shirt.

Will stepped back, hand beginning to ache with the tight grip on her blade. Hannibal let her nose bleed freely, not even bothering to press her fingers to it. Instead, she tossed the bottle to the ground, spreading broken glass under their feet. She pulled a knife from the blood instead, it was small, made for peeling apples. Being precise. “Perhaps, it's time to open that wound again.” Will felt primal fear shoot down her spin and coil around her knees. Hannibal lunged at her again, paying no mind to the glass crunching under her shoes as she forced Will farther back. She knew Hannibal was just playing with her, guiding her through an intimate dance to get Will right where she wanted her. Knowing didn’t help Will resist.

Anytime Hannibal got too close, Will slashed at her. She missed, or only caught the edge of her flesh, little nicks that made blood spot her shirt. Nothing like what Hannibal had done to her, cradled Will in her arms as she dug the blade into her side, parting her flesh around it, whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she stole everything from Will. Everything from her voice to feeling comfortable in hospitals. Her head pounded, adrenaline made her vision swim.

Hannibal never really tried to cut her, none of the precise power that Will knew she possessed. She only realized why, when she took her final step back and felt a wall halt her progress. Hannibal closed the distance, knife at Will’s throat before she could hope to squirm away. She just barely managed to get her blade to Hannibal’s stomach before they were pressed chest to chest. Will didn’t dare to move with the blade nudged up under her jaw. Hannibal stared at her, eyes flared hot with adrenaline. “Are you going to do it, Will? Open me up?” Will swallowed, Hannibal watched her trachea move. “Isn’t that what you came here to do?” Her lips stretched into a grin, blood had dried in the corners of her mouth.

If asked, Will would say that Hannibal kissed her first. That she had been terrified with the press of the knife against her throat, and that she acquiesced because of that fear. Blood smearing across her lips, dried flecks of it beginning to decorate her cheeks as she licked that blood from Hannibal’s mouth. But she knew she had been the one to pull Hannibal in, giving a desperate sort of cry as she dropped her knife in favor of fisting in Hannibal’s shirt and dragging the woman into a desperate kiss. Teeth clashed while their lips slid, awkward and messy, slicked with the harsh copper of Hannibal’s blood. Will forgot about the knife at her throat, not caring if it punctured her flesh or if Hannibal had been courteous enough to drop it.

Dr. Bloom was right. Hannibal’s perverse love wasn’t what tainted Will, when Will had enough perversion of her own.

Teeth nipped and nails raked, fresh blood slipped fresh with a cry from Hannibal. Lines of red were left under Will’s nails. She wondered if the blood smeared against Hannibal’s cunt when Will shoved a hand in her slacks. Hannibal was already sticky with need, burning hot against Will’s fingers. Her chuckle was swallowed in the sound of Hannibal’s groan, teeth sinking into the heavy canvas of Will’s jacket. Her fingers were knotted in it too, forcing Will to bear most of her weight. Will wished Hannibal would shove the jacket off, she wished the knife was still teasing her throat, she wished Hannibal would rub her clit, she wished she had some reason to pretend like she didn’t love this. Her fingers pressed rough inside of Hannibal, a calloused thumb rubbing at her clit.

She was easy, oversensitive and needy, most likely high on manipulating Will. Will’s lips rubbed under her jaw, leaving smears of saliva on her skin. Her teeth nipped at Hannibal’s ear lobe, cunt convulsing around her fingers as she did. “Bedelia hasn’t been taking very good care of you, huh?” Hannibal shook apart a moment later, cunt squeezing and thighs shaking. Will did end up cradling Hannibal in her arms like she had intended when tracking down her apartment. She held the back of Hannibal’s skull, fingers tangling in her hair while guilt congealed in her gut, just like she knew it would. But it was not blood that she wiped from her fingers on the front of Hannibal’s shirt, and her body was not lifeless when Will recoiled. She was very much alive as Will stood over her, eyes darkened, face twisted into disgusted horror.

Hannibal still didn’t look surprised when Will turned tail and fled, trying to burrow into her jacket as she tripped over the threshold and into the hallway. Her throat surely was closing now, abdomen throbbing with phantom pain, curled tight with guilt as she stumbled down the stairs and into the courtyard. She wondered if there were blood stains down the front of her shirt. Her brain conjured the vision of Hannibal trapped in her climax and Will scrambled for the closest trash can to dry heave into.

She squeezed her eyes shut, stomach still cramping even as she collapsed to the ground and wiped her lips with the cuff of her jacket. Her hairline was beaded with sweat and her shirt stuck uncomfortably to the center of her back. “Cigarette?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she looked up and saw Bedelia standing over her, carton of cigarettes opened in her direction. Will swallowed, peering up into her face for a second before grabbing one. Bedelia kneeled in front of her and offered a lighter. “Thanks.” She murmured the word around the filter of her cigarette.

The smoke made her lightheaded and even more nauseous, she would have preferred a whiskey, but it was something to do with her hands at least. Bedelia sat beside her without asking permission. Will wished he would leave her alone, but he stayed quiet for the most part, running through a cigarette and a half before he shook his head. “She’s quite the fuck, isn’t she?” Will turned to look at him, but he was already standing. The carton and lighter were still beside Will, but Bedelia didn’t seem interested in retrieving them. He gave a quick wave over his shoulder, before flicking his cigarette butt off to the side and returning into his building.

**Author's Note:**

> I have [tumblr](https://sinningpumpkin.tumblr.com/)  
> and a [twitter that i dont really know how to use](https://twitter.com/sinningpumpkin)  
> Title taken from [White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons](https://open.spotify.com/track/2QulT0LDnhH7011gzjFvLS?si=RxB0SwwhSCKAkNsr5n1Fhw)


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